


(How Was I To Know) You'd Steal The Show

by butterflycell



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Angst, Boys being open and honest with each other, M/M, Pie, References to Suicide, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:40:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflycell/pseuds/butterflycell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey had good skin, free of blemishes with the exception of a few moles and scatterings of freckles that emerged when he stood too long in the sun. The only incongruities to his appearance were two faded white lines, one on each wrist. They were a couple of inches long, running from the heels of his hands towards his elbows. They were flat against his skin and only showed themselves from certain angles. He wasn't ashamed of them exactly, but sometimes he genuinely forgot they were there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(How Was I To Know) You'd Steal The Show

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings: Past suicide attempt, Mentions of cancer (leukemia)
> 
> This has been sitting around unfinished for a while, hence the disparity between Harvey's family life here and the now canon history. I wanted to explore a different history for Harvey (I find speculating on his background rather fun!) so I hope you like how this turned out!
> 
> (Title is from February Stars by Foo Fighters)

Harvey Specter was six foot tall, with strong shoulders and just the right amount of muscle to be impressive but not intimidating. His hair naturally erred on the side of blonde but darkened with the gel he used each day. Brown eyes, hard and dark, and a constant, gentle tan that showed he most likely had some Italian blood in his background.  
  
He had good skin, free of blemishes with the exception of a few moles and scatterings of freckles that emerged when he stood too long in the sun. The only incongruities to his appearance were two faded white lines, one on each wrist.  
  
They were a couple of inches long, running from the heels of his hands towards his elbows. They were flat against his skin and only showed themselves from certain angles. He wasn't ashamed of them exactly, but sometimes he genuinely forgot they were there.  
  
There were only two other people who knew the story; the woman who'd given him his new life and the woman who'd stopped him from destroying it. They were the gateway to a whole other world, one that no-one ever needed to know about.  
  
And then Mike Ross happened.  
  
\--  
  
Ever since Mike was little, there had always been people there for him.  
  
There were his parents, who would always take his side when he came home with scraped knees. His mom would give him a big hug and glass of cola and his dad would read him a bedtime story and tell him it'd be better the next day.  
  
When they were gone, he had his Gram, some teachers and counsellors of every variety known to man. They promised open doors and open ears, but he didn't want them. He couldn't talk about his parents like they wanted, not yet. He and Gram would sit at the little table shoved in the corner of her tiny kitchen and one of them would offer a memory. That was all he needed really, the warm hug and kiss on his cheek before she sent him off to do his homework.  
  
Then Trevor nose dived into his life and he found he didn't need comfort in the same way as before. His Gram was always there at the end of the day and he never forgot that, but the counsellors and teachers lay far behind him. He had someone his own age who was almost as screwed up as him and it was brilliant.  
  
Yes, he lead Mike down a path that he should never have set foot on, but there had always been people there should Mike have turned around for a second opinion.  
  
Instead he'd turned and run away into a world that had teetered permanently on the edge of anarchy with only his Gram in the distance, keeping him from falling too far. He'd kept a hold of Trevor, with Jenny on the other side, and the three of them had survived for longer than they ever should have.  
  
What Mike had never fully appreciated was just how sturdy his security net had been. Realisation hadn't dawned until Gram's nurse had told him about needing her moved, ' _twenty-five thousand_ ' ringing in his ears over and over. He was suddenly hanging on the edge and instead of being safely on solid ground, his Gram's hand about to slip from his grasp into the anarchy beyond.  
  
Harvey had been a stroke of luck, a blinding beacon of something a little like hope and a lot like safety. Harvey had grabbed him by the back of his collar and hauled sharply back to the safe, ordered world that he never should have left.  
  
Harvey was solid, dressed to the nines - no matter what time of day it was - hair perfectly in place. His confidence and self-belief were written in every expression and movement he made and Mike found it addictive and catching beyond belief. He'd never believed in himself more than he did now, and it was entirely down to the smug bastard he had the good fortune to call his boss.  
  
The same smug bastard he also called his friend and, on increasingly more frequent occasions, his lover. When it came to Harvey, well... a world without Harvey was not something Mike wanted to experience.  
  
He didn't know whether he was just unobservant or whether it was that belief that Harvey _needed_ to be in the world, but he knew he'd failed to notice _them_ in the eighteen months they'd been kind-of-dating. He hadn't once noticed the pale lines when Harvey had his sleeves rolled up late at night, both of them dredging through files, or when he'd been pinned to the bed, Harvey braced over him.  
  
Instead, he'd simply noticed one of the scars as Harvey reached across him for the TV remote.  
  
They were sprawled together on Harvey's couch, watching the Wrath of Khan and the credits had just begun to roll. His face was half pressed into Harvey's chest and he was struggling to keep his eyes in focus. As his wrist passed by, the light from the lamp behind them caught the skin at just the right angle to highlight the long, dividing line.  
  
He only caught a glimpse, a flash of pale, but he couldn't unsee it. When Harvey wrapped his arms around him that night, nose pressed against the back of his neck, all Mike could feel was a burning where Harvey's wrist lay flush against his side, skin to skin where his t-shirt had ridden up.  
  
\--  
  
Donna had very nearly broken her record for productivity of a morning. It hadn't been a particularly special day so far, just a little quieter than usual - Harvey had been reading over various cases and preparing for a meeting that afternoon and Mike had been off doing research and proofing.  
  
It wasn't until she hit 'send' on her last email before lunch that the lack of interruptions _really_ came to her attention. For the best part of ten years, no-one had dared interrupt her, but then Mike arrived with his ability to misread every possible situation and she'd become accustomed to his cheery greetings in the middle of whatever polite-but-firm email she was sending.  
  
She turned the matter over in her mind as she left the building and went to the little coffee shop on the corner. She picked up lunch, and coffees for Harvey and Mike – _her boys_ , she thinks to herself – and had a plan of action by the time she arrived back to the firm.  
  
She bypassed her desk, heading straight to Mike's cubicle. Most of the other associates had already run screaming for their lunch break, but Mike was just sitting there, grim faced with his earphones in. She waited, watching him pointedly until, after a few moments longer than he should've taken, he looked up expectantly.  
  
She held out the drink before he could say anything and he looked a little bewildered, but managed to thank her. “So, you haven't come to pester me today, Puppy.”  
  
“What?” Mike popped the lid off the coffee cup and glanced up. She raised her eyebrows slightly. “I just had a lot to do, that's all.”  
  
He forces a smile, but Donna doesn't miss the way his right hand instinctively wrapped around his left wrist, fingers flexing and rubbing at the material before taking a sip of his drink. He turned back to his work when Donna had nothing more to – but that was only because she was too busy being struck with the sensation of ice water cascading down her back. Mike's distance started to make a little more sense.  
  
“Mike, you saw.” It's a statement and Mike's head snapped around, his eyes meeting hers with a little fear in them. “Did anything else... out of the ordinary happen last night?”  
  
She watched as his face fell into something much more painful and he shook his head with a sigh. “No.”  
  
“Then I would suggest you get that look off your face.” She fixed him with a stern eye. “Harvey sees even a shadow of pity from you, he will drop kick you half way to Ohio.”  
  
Without giving him a chance to reply, she turned on her heel and quickly left the bull pen. She paused for a moment once she'd turned the corner, heart thudding uncomfortably against her rib cage. She closed her eyes and tried to slow it. Trust it to Mike – _Mike_ , the freaky brained, obsessively accurate baby lawyer – to take more than _two years_ to notice. Two years of which he'd spent the vast majority of in Harvey's company, both on and off the clock.  
  
She pinched the bridge of her nose briefly before straightening up and heading back to her desk. She put her coffee and food down and walked straight into Harvey's office, drink in hand. He looked up with a smile, but it dropped quickly.  
  
“Everything okay?”He took the coffee as she handed over and Donna wrapped her fingers quickly around his wrist before he pulled it back.  
  
“Mike's almost done on the work for this afternoon's meeting.” She met his eyes a little reluctantly, noting the way every muscle in his face seemed to turn to steel yet his expression didn't chance at all. It wasn't often that she was at a loss when it came to Harvey, but she was at one now.  
  
Harvey pulled his hand back, calmly putting his drink to one side. “Let him know Ray's going to be out front in half an hour.”  
  
He nodded slightly and Donna replied in kind, leaving him to it. She headed towards the bull pen, deciding to deliver the message in person. Her instincts were right – she glanced over her shoulder to see Harvey slump forwards, a hand over his eyes.  
  
When she got back to her desk, only a minute or so later, Harvey was back at work, sipping his coffee as if nothing had happened.  
  
\--  
  
The meeting went well, as far as Mike could tell. No problems had arisen and, after a long and tedious debate, the two companies had agreed the terms of the impending merger. Of course, that meant Mike had spent the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening working on the due diligence for the side they were representing.  
  
It was closing in on seven and he stretched out, rolling his neck as he saved the file and put the caps back on his highlighters. He'd managed, for the most part, to keep his attention on the meeting and not wandering to Harvey's wrists whenever he gestured. He'd caught himself a couple of times, but Harvey had fixed him with a firm glare at one point.  
  
A glare, in fact, that was matched by the one he wore as he turned the corner into the bull pen. Mike sat up sharply as Harvey snapped his fingers and pointed in the direction of his office before turning and walking back. Mike scrambled up, his stomach starting to turn uncomfortably, but forced himself to walk at a calm, steady pace.  
  
When he turned the corner towards Harvey's office, Donna looked at him and beckoned him over with a tilt of her head. He paused in front of her, forcing himself not to look at Harvey, despite feeling the weight of his gaze.  
  
“Don't be stupid, Mike.” She fixed him with a hard look before turning back to her computer, signalling for him to go.  
  
Mike took as deep a breath as he could manage without letting his sudden nerves show and headed into the office, closing the door behind him. Harvey was sitting back in his desk chair, a hand rubbing at his mouth in contemplation. He flicked a hand towards the guest chairs across the desk for him and Mike sat down, the formality setting him on edge.  
  
Harvey turned to look out at the dark city through the windows, his profile clear against the ever-present New York glow. Silence stretched out and Mike felt expectation begin to tighten in his chest.  
  
“I have a younger brother.” Harvey spoke just as Mike thought he might scream to break the tension inside him. Harvey didn't look at him, eyes fixed on some point out of the window. “When I was seventeen, he was diagnosed with leukaemia.”  
  
“Did he...?” Mike asked, a niggling need pushing its way up and out through his mouth.  
  
Harvey turned in his chair to meet Mike's eyes. For some reason, Mike had been expecting anger or at least steely apathy, but instead there was something a little comforting there. “Does it matter?”  
  
“I think it's important to know if you're talking about a person or a memory.” Mike replied quietly. Harvey cocked his head slightly at that.  
  
“I only have one brother, so all those little references that I know you've stored away from the past couple of years are referring to the living, breathing pain in my ass.” Harvey quirked a half smile at that. “He lives in Chicago with his wife and daughter.”  
  
“Right, okay. That's good to know.” Mike nodded, shifting a little under the look Harvey was levelling at him. He felt like he was being weighed up against some unknown opponent.  
  
“They caught it in the early stages and he went into remission. When I moved away for college, some routine tests showed it had come back.” Harvey looked away again, rubbing at his jaw. When he spoke again, his words were even and carefully placed between them. “I didn't find out until I graduated, more than a year later.”  
  
Harvey fell silent, hints of emotion flitting across his expression. Mike couldn't help but stare, no matter how hard he tried to separate _his_ Harvey from the one he worked with in the office. Revelations about his personal life – which were few and far between – were almost solely confined to one of their homes.  
  
“When I came back, I spent a couple of months alone in the house with my parents saying about a sentence to me every few days as they came and went.” Harvey took a deep breath and looked sideways at him. “I've never been close to my parents, but I was to Aaron. I spent my senior year playing cards with him in hospital and sitting on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night. My parents had me _convinced_ that he wanted nothing to do with me when he relapsed, and that _I_ was in the wrong.”  
  
Mike wanted to interject, he knew his own expression had turned as dark as Harvey's.  
  
“I was starting to study for the LSATs but nothing was going in. I stopped sleeping and then one night, my parents didn't come home.” He stood up then, pacing across the room and picking up one of the basketballs, rolling it absently between his hands. Mike recognised it for the diversionary tactic it was. Harvey glanced back over his shoulder. “After ninety-six hours without sleep, it's hard to think straight. All I could think was that Aaron had died. I must've drunk a full bottle of Jack's before locking myself in the bathroom and taking my dad's straight razor to my wrists.”  
  
Mike met Harvey's eyes with all the conviction he could muster, but when he looked back out of the window, Mike felt his lungs deflate with the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He stared at Harvey's back, trying to reconcile this new facet with the man he knew – _thought_ he knew.  
  
“Harvey--” He wanted to say something, anything to get rid of the rigid divide that seemed to have formed between them, but Harvey cut him off. He put the ball on its stand and turned around, hands in pockets.  
  
“Rookie, it's been a long day.” He smiled gently, walking back towards the desk. “Go home, freak out and we can talk some more tomorrow if you want to.”  
  
Mike nodded and stood up, straightening his jacket as he looked hard at Harvey's expression. It was resignation, apprehension and affection rolled into a single confusing mix. Without fully knowing what he was doing, he reached out and closed his hand around one of Harvey's wrists. His shirt cuff barricaded what lay underneath, but the solid, comforting feel of him beneath Mike's fingers was enough to clear his head a little.  
  
Harvey's expression hardened, but not in a hostile way. It was the same thing that happened when he was trying to restrain himself and Mike wanted so badly to close the gap and kiss him hard, to take away this new, uncomfortable revelation.  
  
But he kept his distance and so did Harvey. Letting go of his wrist, Mike looked away and left the office, saying 'bye' to Donna as he passed to gather his things from his desk. He shoved the files he'd been reading in his bag and left.  
  
\--  
  
Harvey sighed heavily, rubbing eyes and pointedly not catching sight of his wrist. He'd managed to forget about it all for a good few months this time round, and it had been years since he'd dredged up that other life in such detail. It was so long ago now. Far too long. Not long enough.  
  
He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and paced around his condo, trying to feel normal in jeans and a t-shirt whilst the rest of his world was fraying at the edges. He kept catching sight of things Mike had left lying around – a shirt here, a book there, even one of his trusty highlighters – and his mind boiled over with thoughts that he was too tired to deal with.  
  
Everything that he'd told Mike was just history. It bore no relevance to his life in the present and he saw very little merit in feeling regret or shame about it. It was just another piece of information filed away in his personal history.  
  
Jessica knew, of course – she'd been the one to kick him into gear as he started in the mailroom, surly and mouthing off at every opportunity. He'd punched some idiot in the face for making some smart ass remark about his scars and Jessica had heard. She'd read his file, called him up to her Junior Partner's office and given him an ultimatum. He'd signed the deal without a second's thought. His Harvard fees would be paid in return for a minimum of ten years at the firm, starting as Jessica's personal associate. The only real sacrifice was that she wanted the whole story.  
  
Donna knew as well – how could she not? - but it hadn't been until he'd discovered Cameron's tendency to bury evidence. He'd stopped sleeping again, eventually turning up to work out of his mind with sleep deprivation. She'd dragged him out of there the moment she'd seen him, tugging him across the city by the collar of his shirt until she had him nestled safely in his bed.  
  
She must've caught glimpses of them for almost two years, ugly grey things that poked out of his shirt cuffs. She'd taken his wrists and held them out, silently asking for an explanation. He'd complained the next day, seeing as she had taken complete advantage of his pliability, but it had been a weight off his mind that she'd just taken it in her stride. She was the first person that Harvey had let himself get truly attached to since his brother and he was thankful that he'd made a good choice.  
  
Now, almost fifteen years after he'd told Donna, he was dragging it up again. Two years without a single word from him and suddenly Mike decides to notice what was, literally, right under his nose.  
  
If he was honest with himself, his frustration wasn't directed at Mike. He was bound to notice sooner or later – it just happened later than Harvey would've thought possible, something which he was mildly impressed about. No, what frustrated him was that by trying to kill himself, he'd created a whole new future for himself – that same future that now seemed to revolve around Mike – but it was also responsible for the sickening way in which it was tilting around him now.  
  
He sighed again and dropped on the couch, pulling a comforter around him as he flicked the television onto some sci-fi show. The ball was in Mike's court. There was nothing more he could do for the moment.  
  
He did his best to focus on the show, to follow the mundane storyline and mediocre characters, and he succeeded for the most part. He got through a whole two hours, forcing his mind to focus on the story which had, fortunately, got far more interesting – to the point that the sound of a key turning in the front door almost made him jump. Almost.  
  
He turned his head and saw Mike let himself in. He was dressed in a hoody and a pair of jeans and he held up a stripy pink box as he kicked the door closed behind him.  
  
“I brought pie.” He slid it onto the work surface to once side and kicked his sneakers off.  
  
Harvey watched silently as he crossed the room and walked right up to him. Mike pulled up the side of the blanket and lay down next to Harvey on the mercifully deep couch. He tugged the blanket back around them and wriggled, Harvey patiently letting him adjust them both until he had Mike's head tucked under his chin and their legs hooked together.  
  
“Comfortable?” He asked finally. Mike nodded his head vigorously.  
  
“Yep.” They lay there watching the television for a while longer. Harvey could feel Mike's fingers running lazy patterns across his chest and he tried to tell himself that the silence was a good thing, that it was acceptance - but he needed something verbal. He needed words.  
  
He steeled himself and picked up the remote, turning the screen off and tossed it to the foot of the couch. He felt Mike's fingers stop, suddenly aware of the afternoon's cloud once more. Harvey tightened his hold around Mike's shoulders briefly before letting it fall loose.  
  
“So.” He said finally.  
  
“So...” Mike replied. A silence began to stretch, but Harvey was reluctant to break it. Mike finally spoke again. “So, I don't understand.”  
  
He pushed away from Harvey and sat up, twisting himself to straddle Harvey's lap. Harvey pushed himself into a sitting position, thinking Mike would move, but he came closer, settling his hands on his chest. Harvey looked at him calmly and waited.  
  
“I understand _why_.” He looked down at his hands and Harvey brought his own up to wrap loosely around his wrists. “Just after I moved in with my Gram, she had to go onto some new medication. It was expensive and she was struggling to keep up payments. My birthday was coming up and she kept asking me what I wanted.”  
  
“You didn't want want her to worry about money any more.” Harvey said gently, Mike nodding and looking back up at him with a rueful smile.  
  
“I stole a bottle of aspirin from the drugstore on my way to school and I was going to hide in the restroom and do it once the school was locked up for the night,” Harvey watched the flicker of fear run across Mike's face, “but during lunch, Trevor saw the note I'd written and punched me in the face. He made me tell him everything and came up with the idea of selling the answers to the the next Math test for the older grades.”  
  
Harvey frowned slightly at Trevor's name and he felt a tight knot of something in his chest as he understood, perhaps for the first time, what he'd really meant to Mike.  
  
“After that, there was always a little extra money. I told Gram I was tutoring some of the other kids and what I made from the tests went towards groceries or whatever.” The tips of Mike's fingers pressed into Harvey's chest and he tightened his grip around his wrists slightly. “The point is; I understand _why_ , but I don't understand _how_.”  
  
“How?” Harvey raised his eyebrows slightly, ready to reply with something heavily sarcastic, when Mike cut him off.  
  
“I don't understand how you were so alone that no-one noticed.” Mike was frowning at him and Harvey sighed, trying to work out how best to explain. He looked to one side, scanning the city outside briefly, ordering his thoughts.  
  
“I grew up in a suburb up-state – big houses, perfect lawns, white picket fences. Think Wisteria Lane. I wouldn't be surprised if they actually came up with the whole idea of 'don't ask, don't tell'.” He turned back to Mike, who's head had tilted to one side, a thumb brushing back and forth on his chest. “I haven't changed all that much – lots of acquaintances, no real friends.”  
  
“No-one?” Mike asked. Harvey shook his head.  
  
“My parents had no time for me and I had no time for them. People at college were the competition.” He let go of Mike's wrists and tried to push himself up, but Mike pressed sternly at his chest again. Harvey looked back at him, a little surprised at the ferocious look on his face. “Aaron was the only person I had any time for and he was the only person I needed.”  
  
Mike looked a little cowed at that, but kept a firm weight against his chest. “How long were you in the hospital for?”  
  
“Five days. I signed myself out, they tried to get me into a psych bed and I talked them down.” He smirked a little at the memory and he saw something in Mike's eyes soften. “My parents had visited briefly, to let me know how unimpressed they were and that Aaron deserved their attention more – we were in the same hospital so the first thing I did was go and find him.”  
  
“I bet that went down well.” Mike raised and eyebrow and Harvey couldn't help but smile grimly in response.  
  
“He was asleep, so I sat down and waited for him to wake up. The moment he realised it was me, I was on the floor.” Mike frowned slightly. “For a kid who was supposed to be massively sick from chemo, he packed a hell of a punch. It didn't last long though, we were both too exhausted, so I helped him back into bed and he chewed me out for hours.”  
  
“He was worried about you.” Mike spoke gently, one of his hands moving up Harvey's chest. He felt a finger pressing lightly to the top of his sternum. Harvey wound his fingers into Mike's, holding his hand still. “If you two were so close, how did you wind up not talking?”  
  
“My letters didn't get to him and he didn't have my address.” He shrugged slightly. “Afterwards, when he was well enough, he came to visit me in the city. He brought this shoe box filled with them and we went up on the roof of my building and burnt them all. They got pretty bitter towards the end.”  
  
“What about phonecalls?” He could tell from Mike's expression that he was struggling to understand life without instant and overwhelming access to communication.  
  
“I tried whenever I could, but he was never in. The one time he picked up, it only lasted long enough for him to tell me to 'fuck off.'” Harvey shifted slightly, Mike resettling himself a little closer. His hands stayed firmly on Harvey's chest.  
  
He let go of Mike's hands pushed apart his hoody, running his fingers down his sides. He slotted his fingers into the vague depressions between his ribs, pressing gently into the t-shirt covered skin there. He smiled at the slight huff of Mike's breath, his hands sliding round to his back as Mike eased himself down. He lay his head on Harvey's shoulder, their chests flush together and Mike's breath gentle on his neck.  
  
“Is that the end of they story?” He almost didn't hear him, too lost in the feel of him.  
  
“Pretty much.” Harvey nodded and leaned his head against Mike's. He felt fingertips press back into his chest in reply.  
  
“What happened after?” He asked gently.  
  
“What do you mean?” Harvey pulled his head back, Mike craning his neck to meet his eyes.  
  
“With your parents. What happened after?” He kept a firm hand on his chest as Harvey tried to shift again. Mike was too close too look away from. He tried to push him away, but Mike clung on. “Just this last thing, then I'll leave it alone.”  
  
Mike settled back against his shoulder, pressing an open mouther kiss to his neck. Harvey sighed and held him a bit tighter. “Fine, fine...  
  
“I haven't seen my mother since. Aaron spent the best part of a year trying to get through to her, but it didn't change anything.” Harvey closed his eyes. Even after all this time, talking too much about her ignited a latent anger deep in him. Mike's fingers slid up to his neck anchoring him back to the here an now. “My dad got in contact about the time I got into Harvard. Aaron bullied us into meeting up. Things aren't great, but we see each other a couple of times a year and we keep in contact in between.”  
  
“Well, that's good, right?” Mike asked – and Harvey could hear the hope in his voice. He smiled slightly and nodded, because if his mother still made him angry, his dad did the opposite. They'd never have a typical relationship – Harvey didn't need his approval, didn't go to him with problems, didn't feel any real duty towards him and his dad still didn't really know how to be at ease with him – but it was better than nothing.  
  
“Yeah. It wasn't until after I graduated that he told me he was the one who found me.” Harvey ran a hand down Mike's back, resting on his hip. “He may not have done it for the purest of reasons, but at least he stayed until the paramedics came. My mom was already in bed.”  
  
Mike fingers tightened instinctively then and Harvey couldn't help but smirk slightly. He slid his fingers under the waistband of Mike's jeans, stroking his hips and his ass, shifting his slightly to lie a little more comfortably. He dug his fingers in and was rewarded by a sharp bite to the underside of his jaw. Mike ground his hips down and if Harvey didn't know better, he was being just a little possessive.  
  
Mike's mouth travelled upwards, catching his lips in a rough kiss. Harvey felt his head being manipulated, pushed back as Mike arched up and delved his tongue in against Harvey's. Mike pinned him down and Harvey pulled their hips together, already feeling Mike half-hard in his pants. He could feel hands around his jaw, thumbs pressed to his chin to keep his mouth as open as possible. Mike was in total control.  
  
He smiled against the kiss, sliding his hands to the front of Mike's jeans and tugging them open to give himself more room. He left his cock ignored and took hold of his ass again, fingers digging in and earning him a low groan from deep in Mike's chest. He pushed his hand in further, brushing his fingers against Mike's hole. He groaned against his mouth and bit down on Harvey's tongue, pulling back slowly before he let go.  
  
Mike hummed happily, foreheads pressed together. His hips were moving lazily between Harvey's hand and crotch.  
  
“If I'd known this whole thing would make you this hot, I would've told you _alot_ sooner.” Harvey nipped at Mike's bottom lip, soothing the bite with his tongue before kissing him again. It was slow and dirty, shifting his hips to tease at Mike's.  
  
Mike planted his hands on Harvey's chest and pushed himself up, grinding down a little and making his breath catch in his throat. Harvey watched as Mike fished into his pocket and pulled out bottle of lube. He raised an eyebrow.  
  
“What? You thought I'd come over here unprepared?” Mike frowned, as if genuinely confused. Harvey smiled and pulled a hand round to palm Mike's cock, rubbing with the heel of his hand until Mike started to shudder above him.  
  
The bottle hit him in the chest and Harvey grinned as Mike leant down, pulling him into a kiss as they shoved jeans and boxers off hips. It wouldn't be that much effort to strip off shirts, to peel down to absolutely nothing, but Harvey wanted it _dirty_ \- he wanted Mike riding him and he wanted his fingerprints bruised into Mike's hips for at least the next few days.  
  
He grabbed the lube and coated his fingers, pressing one into Mike without warning. Mike pushed back and dragged Harvey in, with a moan that went _straight_ to his cock. Mike repositioned himself, one hand gripping to the back of the couch and the other on the arm beside Harvey's head. He picked up a rhythm and Harvey pressed in a second finger. Mike screwed himself down, using leverage from his grip on the couch. Harvey added a third and spread them, scissoring until Mike started to pant, his hips stuttering a shaking while Harvey refused to touch his cock. He made a noise, some sort of protest in the back of his throat and Harvey smirked, biting into the soft skin of his throat.  
  
Mike ground down into him again and a shock of pleasure lurched through his hips and stomach. Pulling his hand free, he quickly coated his cock and took a tight grip of Mike hips. He bit his lip as Mike took hold of his cock, clumsy and shaking as he lined them up. There was a beat – a breath where their eyes met and Harvey knew – before Mike sunk down and took him to the hilt.  
  
Harvey sighed, head falling back for just a moment before Mike pulled his attention back. He kissed him hard, all teeth and tongues as he raised himself up and Harvey met him with a thrust as he came back down. He braced his feet as Mike worked towards a pace. It was harsh and Harvey's muscles were aching, but his fingers were biting into Mike's hips and Mike was so fucking gorgeous. His skin was on fire, his inside turning to steam as his thighs and and hips started to burn with cramp.  
  
Mike worked his hips, arching his back as he thrust down and the noise that ripped from him made Harvey pick up the pace, thrusting harder and deeper until all Mike could do was keen above him, his fingers white against the black leather he gripped to.  
  
Harvey was close, _so_ close, his hips chasing Mike's and starting to miss the rhythm. Mike's chest was heaving and he knew all the signs. He let go of Mike's hip and curled it loosely round his cock, stroking lazily in a way so at odds with the rough pounding that Harvey saw the barest flicker of pain across Mike's face, his head thrown back and mouth open, lips red and swollen. Before he knew it, Mike had let go of the couch, their fingers winding together as he made Harvey pump his cock.  
  
His thrusts became shallower, Mike clearly not sure which sensation to push for – so Harvey made the choice from him. On the next thrust, he pressed into Mike's hips and dug his thumb into the soft flesh at the top of his thigh, forcing him to stay seated, completely filled, as he twisted their hands. Mike's hips rolled and shifted in minute movements, each one showing on his face until his fingers tightened and with a final stroke, he was coming hard across their hands and Harvey's t-shirt.  
  
Mike cried out and Harvey's name filled his ears as he loosened his grip and Mike rode out the last of his orgasm, twisting and thrusting with his muscles fluttering and spasming until Harvey joined him. He moaned loudly, chest heaving as Mike kept moving, drawing every second of pleasure from it for both of them.  
  
The world disappeared into a mess of oranges and reds, the smell of Mike's clothes detergent and the leather of the couch. Everything was made of Mike's body and the sounds of his slowly evening breath. He gradually felt himself pulled back to the present, to Mike sliding off him and settling back against his chest.  
  
He wiped their hands on Harvey's already ruined t-shirt and pushed it up, just enough to cover the mess, and lay back down. Mikes fingers traced lazily over his sides and his ribs and Harvey couldn't help himself as he ran his hands over the small of Mike's back, moving to cup his ass. Mike made a sleepy noise of approval as he smoothed over the sore, hot flesh. After a few moments, Harvey smirked to himself, slipping a hand further round to touch Mike's hole.  
  
He ran a finger through the excess lube, smoothing it over and around the stretched and open ring. The muscles clenched sluggishly under his touch and Mike whimpered against his neck. He felt a hand move to his neck, soft and calming.  
  
They lay there for what felt like hours, Harvey indulging himself in Mike's body, easing and soothing him in the aftermath. Mike slowly came back to himself, lips to Harvey's jaw, his neck, his collar bones.  
  
“You know,” Mike said quietly, his voice slurring a little, “I brought pie with me.”  
  
“Pie sounds good,” Harvey mumbled, pressing his face to Mike's hair for a moment.  
  
“Yeah, pie sounds _really_ good.” Mike nodded, rubbing his nose against Harvey's shoulder.  
  
“What kind is it?” He asked, moving a hand up under Mike's t-shirt and over his still slick skin.  
  
“Apple.” Mike moved his lips across Harvey's neck, sucking gently as he nuzzled under his chin.  
  
“Mmmm. I like apple.” Harvey managed, eyes falling closed under Mike's ministrations. “I think there's some ice-cream somewhere.”  
  
“I was hoping you'd say that.” He felt a lazy grin against his neck and couldn't help but but return it.  
  
Everything felt pretty close to perfect. He'd finally told Mike the only part of his life that he wasn't all that proud of, and he'd just taken it in his stride. He'd fucked him into the couch and brought him pie. _God_ , if he ever screwed this up then he never deserved it in the first place. For the first time in twenty years, he thought there was maybe some real, bone-deep meaning to why he'd woken up in that hospital bed.  
  
He moved a hand up to cradle Mike's head and pressed a kiss to his hair, closing his eyes again for a moment. Mike's fingers moved lazily over his skin and Harvey was perfectly content to stay there, at least for the moment. He just needed a little time, maybe a nap, and then they could have pie and ice-cream...  
  
Maybe he'd even eat it off Mike's stomach.


End file.
